<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Warzone by hexhomra</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188381">Warzone</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexhomra/pseuds/hexhomra'>hexhomra</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lord of the Flies - William Golding</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, M/M, Ralphs last name is Goranski dont question me, i have no fucking idea what year this is set in take it how you will, jack has been through some shit, they lived through the island</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-03-17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 05:48:21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,714</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23188381</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/hexhomra/pseuds/hexhomra</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>It had been 5 years since Ralph had returned home from the island. For the first few weeks, all he wanted to do was forget. No twelve year old should want to forget anything, but Ralph did. He would give anything to not remember those months on the island. The blood. The savages his friends became. Especially Jack. </p><p>At first, Jack was bright. His orange hair glowed a specific way in the bright beams of the sun. After a few days on the island, his pale skin became more tanned, the light dusting of freckles he had on the first day became a predominant feature of his face. </p><p>He could never forget the events of the island, even though now it was becoming a little harder to remember the sharp details of every single littluns face. But he could never forget the blood that stained the sand or the glorious pink colour of the conch shell. One thing he was sure he could never forget was the ice-cold look in the eyes of Jack. He didn’t seem to feel bad about Piggy or Simon. </p><p>The blood that stained his hands did not seem to be enough. It would never be enough.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jack Merridew/Ralph</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Warzone</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I made a Pinterest board for this fic and i really love it so if you wanna look at it ..... yeah<br/>https://www.pinterest.com/MethaneSkiess/warzone/</p><p>I also have a playlist if you wanna check that shit out lol<br/>https://open.spotify.com/playlist/0lhwehd2HP07ugtxwpomCd?si=bOJqVJR-RNSFHZoYQKWhhA</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been 5 years since Ralph had returned home from the island. For the first few weeks, all he wanted to do was forget. No twelve year old should want to forget anything, but Ralph did. He would give anything to not remember those months on the island. The blood. The savages his friends became. Especially Jack. </p><p>At first, Jack was bright. His orange hair glowed a specific way in the bright beams of the sun. After a few days on the island, his pale skin became more tanned, the light dusting of freckles he had on the first day became a predominant feature of his face. </p><p>He could never forget the events of the island, even though now it was becoming a little harder to remember the sharp details of every single littluns face. But he could never forget the blood that stained the sand or the glorious pink colour of the conch shell. One thing he was sure he could never forget was the ice-cold look in the eyes of Jack. He didn’t seem to feel bad about Piggy or Simon. </p><p>The blood that stained his hands did not seem to be enough. It would never be enough.</p><p> </p><p>____________________</p><p> </p><p>The cobblestone of the pavement was soaked from the rain. It was always raining in London, it didn't ever seem to stop. Ralph was sat at a coffee shop looking out the window. It was mid-morning, the sun would have been fairly high in the sky if it weren't for the rain. The clouds covered most of the morning sky. </p><p>A ringing brought Ralph from his thoughts. Someone else had entered the coffee shop. Ralph turned to look at the new visitor and was immediately stunned by bright orange hair. The persons back was faced towards Ralph so he couldn't see his face, but the long ponytail of wavy orange hair told Ralph all he needed to know. It was Jack. </p><p>His hair was the same shade of orange. He was still tall. It looked like he hadn't gained any weight since their time on the island, still extremely gangly looking.</p><p>Ralph turned back around desperate to forget that Jack was here. He had always been desperate to forget. </p><p>After a few minutes of waiting for Jack to leave, he hadn’t. Ralph tentatively turned back around. He saw Jack sitting at a table near him. His knees were pulled to his chest as he hunched in the corner of the booth that he was sat at. His eyes were trained on a book, a thick novel that looked boring even to Ralph. But his eyes weren't the same. The icy blue that used to radiate hatred now looked hazed over. Ralph couldn’t tell what he was feeling like he could back on the island. </p><p>Ralph watched as Jack reached out for his coffee, his eyes still trained on his book. His hand shook a little as he picked up the cup as if it was too heavy for him to hold up properly. He took a long sip of his drink. Ralph could still see heat radiating off of the cup, Jack showed no signs of pain as he set the cup back down slowly and returned his hand to his book. </p><p>Jack still had freckles, he was paler than he was on the island though. He was wearing a maroon sweater, it was becoming unwoven at the end from years of wear. The sleeves were a little discoloured, the majority of the sweater was a soft colour but the sleeves were stained a darker type of red. </p><p>Suddenly Jack shifted in his seat sprawling his long leg across the expanse of the booth. He made to take another sip of his drink. He picked up the cup a little too aggressively and some of the coffee spilt out, but it wasn't coffee at all. It seemed to be a type of tea. He could never imagine Jack, his Jack from the island drinking tea. It seemed too soft for such a ridgid ice-cold boy. </p><p>Ralph looked up from Jacks hands to his eyes and he saw Jacks eyes looking at him. The once ice-cold blue was now softer. The fury of the island was gone. Ralph could sense the sadness in his eyes. </p><p>Jack very slowly set down his mug and closed his book. His eyes took a defensive stance. He stood up from the booth and walked out of the shop not saying a single word to Ralph. </p><p>Ralph was stunned, to say the least. That was the opposite reaction that he expected from Jack. It seemed like for the first time in forever he wasn’t looking for a war. </p><p>Ralph stood abruptly he grabbed his backpack and made his way out of the coffee shop. He saw the orange hair turn the corner towards the shopping district. Ralph quietly follows Jack down the road to a shop. It was an art store, they had everything from calligraphy pens to oil paints and pastels. </p><p>Ralph stood in the entryway of the old shop, he looked around in awe. The store smelled like an old book and dozens of inkwells. It old looking the floor creaked as Ralph walked deeper into the shop. </p><p>“Can I help you with anything?” A sickly looking old man asked from behind a typewriter at the front desk. </p><p>“Uhm… I don’t think so. I was looking for a friend. I guess he’s not here.” Ralph replied, his eyes darting from the typewriter-man to the isles. </p><p>“Well, I do happen to be pretty close with all of my regulars. I can tell him you stopped by.” The old man offered. </p><p>“Okay sure, his name is Jack he has orange hair. He reads…?” As he begins talking Ralph realizes that he hardly knows anything about Jack. </p><p>“Oh yeah Jack of course. I didn’t think that he really had any friends.” </p><p>“Yeah, I’m an old friend. I haven’t seen him in a few years.”</p><p>“Alright, do you have a message for him?” The man asked </p><p>“Uhm yes! Give me one moment!” Ralph exclaimed to the man. </p><p>He grabbed a piece of paper and a purple fountain pen from his bag. He wrote Jack a short note. </p><p>‘Jack,<br/>
I want to talk to you. To talk about what happened.<br/>
Please.<br/>
Meet me. 5:30 pm February 26. The Caf.<br/>
~Ralph’</p><p>His handwriting scrawled over itself the letters looped around themselves in the purple pen. </p><p>He handed the note over to the man at the desk after he folded it up. </p><p>“I will give this to him the next time he stops by.” The man says, tucking the note by the typewriter. </p><p>“Thank you so much!”</p><p>Ralph quietly made his way out of the shop and back into the rainy street. As he made his trek home he thought about the Jack that he saw today, and his Jack from the island. </p><p>They seemed so different from each other. But some how they were the same person. The Jack that he saw today seemed softer than his Jack. The way his eyes used to shine is gone, not even the emotion that wasn't  murderous rage was gone. He seemed like a shell of a person almost. Like something haunted him. Something that wasn’t just the memory of the island. </p><p>His Jack was aggressive and a fighter. He had a goal and he would do anything to get to that goal. This Jack seemed to drone through his actions like he didn’t even have a goal. </p><p>When he got to his house he realized that he had never seen Jack at school but they live in the same town where there is really only one proper school. “So where does Jack go to school?” He asked himself out loud as he closed the front door. </p><p>“Where does who go to school, honey?” Ralphs mother asked from the kitchen where she was making dinner. </p><p>“Oh no one really, just an old friend.” Ralph replied. His family didn’t really talk about the island. They try to forget that the war even happened after his father was discharged for injury. </p><p>“What brought up them again then?” She asked moving to the cutting board to dice some carrots, presumably for soup. </p><p>“Oh I saw him today while I was at The Caf” It wasn’t an unusual occurrence for Ralph to visit ’The Caf’ after class to complete some homework or just meet up with some friends. </p><p>“Oh thats odd!” His mother exclaimed before turning back to the pot to push the carrots into the boiling broth. </p><p>“Yeah… odd indeed,” Ralph muttered to himself, “Anyways! I’m gonna go change and then finish my homework.” </p><p>Ralph made his way up the stairs and into his room. His room had light grey paint on the walls and an assortment of posters for extremely mediocre bands were on the walls. His desk was covered in papers and jars of pens and pencils, it looked like an overall disaster. If you asked him what happened he would just shrug and say ‘finals season is bloody killing me.’ </p><p>The rest of his room was filled with mild clutter. Small trinkets cover the top of his chest of drawers, and hundreds of books spilled out of the book shelf and onto random surfaces around the room. Anywhere where there wasn’t a book there was some sort of plant.</p><p>Ralph stripped of his wet attire and pulled on an old sweatshirt and some joggers. The sweatshirt was grey and had a logo on it for an American school ‘Harvard’ on it. Ralph by no means had been to Harvard or plans on going there. He bought the sweater because he was cold and had no proper sweaters left. A maroon colour made up the letters of the word ‘Harvard’. It was the same colour as Jacks sweater today. </p><p>The maroon sweater that he wore looked too big on him. It was so frayed at the ends it looked like he had only worn that for years. The fraying of the sleeves wasn't the only thing that put Ralph off about them. They were stained a darker colour than the rest of the sweater. “How did it get like that?” Ralph once again spoke aloud to himself. It dosn’t even matter does it? Jack just walked away from him. </p><p>There is no way that he will meet with Ralph on the 26th. Today was was February 19th. He gave Jack a whole week, 7 days to decide if meeting with Ralph was a good idea. If his first reaction upon seeing Ralph for the first time in 5 years was to walk way from him there is no way that he will actually want to meet him for coffee or something.</p><p> </p><p>_______________________</p><p> </p><p>The next 7 days seemed horribly long to Ralph. He didn’t happen to see Jack at The Caf again or at any other place. His brain when into hypervision every time he saw a flash of orange hair, or blue eyes. But finally after a week of not paying attention in his classes, it was Friday again. </p><p>He told Jack to meet him at 5:30. By 4:45 Ralph was sat nervously at the same booth that Jack was at a week prior. He had splayed his homework out in the fake way you do when you know your mom is coming home and you need to look like you were doing something.</p><p>There he sat for the next 45 minutes, pretending to do homework. He tensed up and slowly looked up at the door every time the bell went off. Finally the clock reached 5:30 and Ralph almost relaxed at the though that Jack wasn’t coming. The next time the bell chimed it was 5:43, Ralph was intensely trying to finish his chem homework that he can figure out for the life of him, he didn’t look up. He didn’t see Jack walk into The Caf.</p><p>The next thing that Ralph knew a cup of tea was placed just inside of his field of vision. The person who set it down was careful to not place the cup on any of Ralph’s assorted assignments. He looked up to make eye contact with blue eyes. Jacks blue eyes, they were not as bright as they were on the island, but nonetheless still a beautiful shade of blue.</p><p>“Jack…” Ralph breathed out, “You actually came.” </p><p>“Yeah, I did. I don’t think that I actually know why though.” Jack said, he didn’t move from his position across from Ralph. He looked uncomfortable, but not stiff.</p><p>“To be totally honest I don’t know why I actually asked you here. I just saw you and I knew that I had to talk to you.” </p><p>“Look Ralph. I know you want to talk about the island and everything that happened there. Now, of course I would like to talk about what happened and express how much regret I feel about what I did. But, so much has happened in five years. I don’t even know where to start or what to say.” After Jack finished his speech he took a deep breath and slouched back a little in his side of the booth. </p><p>“I know we can never forget what happened on the island but that isn’t even what I want to talk to you about. I just want to get to know you. When I saw you here last week I was caught off guard. I have never seen you here before. Or at all in the last five years,” Ralph explained as he began to put away all of his chemistry work, “I want to know what happened to you.” </p><p>“So much. You have no idea.” Jack stated simply before taking a sip of his tea. </p><p>“What happened to you after the island. When we got off that boat I never saw you again.” Ralph asked. For some reason he was compelled to learn every moment of Jacks life since he last interacted with him. </p><p>“After we were all returned home I went to an orphanage. My parents had died when the second bomb hit England. I spent all of my years there until last year when I turned 16. When I was 16 I was booted from the orphanage because I was a ‘bad influence’ on the younger kids. I was homeless for a bit. Then I did some stuff got some money and now I have an almost okay apartment and Im here.”  </p><p>The boys sat in silence for a few minutes while Ralph attempted to comprehend all of the information that Jack just told him. </p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Ralph said, he moved to take Jacks hand but retracted it before he actually touched Jack, “It must have been terrible all by yourself for so long.” </p><p>“It honestly wasn't that bad the kids at the orphanage were nice… usually. So its not like I was really all alone in the world,” Jack said, shrugging and taking a sip of his tea, “So, what happened to you in the last five years?” </p><p>“Oh. Not much actually. I kinda went to school and that's about it.” Ralph said dismissing any accomplishment or failure that had happened to him in the last 5 years. </p><p>They continued talking for hours. They actually managed to close down The Caf. The owner kindly evacuated them from their booth at 8 when they closed. </p><p>“Hey, I really enjoyed talking with you,” Jack said “If you want to keep talking we could go to my place. Its not too far. Only if you want to.”</p><p>“Sure. I would love to.” Ralph agreed hardly thinking about what he had just agreed to. </p><p>The walk from The Caf to Jack’s apartment was fairly short. It was no longer than 15 minutes before they arrived at an apartment building. The elevator ride up to the apartment was nearly silent. </p><p>Jack seemed to be enthralled by the terrible patterning of the carpet in the elevator while Ralph quietly watched the elevator counter to tick up to the top floor. The elevator finally stopped and Jack lead Ralph down a long corridor to his apartment. </p><p>He stopped in front of the door labeled 817.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>